


Thawing

by Vulcanmi



Series: Thawing Universe [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: After Thor: The Dark World, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Before Captain America: Winter Soldier, Fluff, M/M, Oneshot, Pre-Slash, Steve Rogers POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-23 17:49:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11994888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vulcanmi/pseuds/Vulcanmi
Summary: Loki starts showing up in Steve's apartment with an increasingly alarming frequency. Loki's supposed to be dead.





	Thawing

**Author's Note:**

> I found this sitting lost on my computer and decided to finish it up. The world needs more CapsLok ;u;

The super soldier stares up at the ceiling of his bedroom, not moving, not thinking. Barely breathing. It's one of those days. One of those days where he feels useless in a strange way. He doesn't know what to do with himself when he's not fighting.

Most of the time he can go out, research the things that happened while he was frozen, go for a run, spend time with Natasha or Clint or occasionally Stark or Banner.

But occasionally he'll wake up one morning and feel it. He is a man out of time, and living a normal life is out of the question. He knows he wouldn’t want one, even if it wasn’t. All he’s ever wanted to do is serve and protect his country, and now he has the privilege. His body will never expire, never grow old, and as long as they have use of him he will continue to fight. He’s a soldier.

These thoughts are not a comfort. He doesn’t quite know how to describe them, but they do not comfort him. He knows his cause, knows what Captain America stands for. He knows what Captain America stands for, and that was enough before. But he’s begun to question the man behind the mask. Sometimes it feels like Steve Rogers is still in the ice.

He gets a call, and the soldier rises from the bed lethargically, feeling a wave of mild shame washing over him at how sedentary he's being. It's almost ten in the morning.

The phone— cell phone, he remembers Stark insisting he call it— is on the kitchen counter where he left it. It takes him a minute to figure out how to get it to work, and once he does he hesitates before speaking into it.

“Hello?”

“Captain.”

“Director.” The greetings are curt, succinct. This is not a social call.

“We’ve just heard from Thor about what happened in London.”

Steve nods. It had been all over the news, Thor’s battle with an apparently alien entity that neither S.H.I.E.L.D nor anyone else had known anything about. Steve had his suit on before the newscaster was done explaining, but he’d gotten immediate orders to stand down. He hadn’t understood, had argued, determined how effective it’d be if he just went by himself, off the books, but in the end he’d been a good little soldier and obeyed. Despite the news that came later saying the situation was taken care of Steve felt guilty for just standing idly by. It might not have been official, but they were a team, and he didn’t let his team down. Unless he was given orders to, apparently.

“We’ll brief you fully about it in a meeting this afternoon, but the short version is that Thor handled things. And from what I hear he plans on staying here. He’s offered his services to S.H.I.E.L.D, too.”

This news should make him happy, but there is a distinct lack of emotion. All the soldier does is nod. “Understood.” He pulls the phone away from his ear to find the button to turn it off, but a tiny voice makes him press it back to his ear.

“-is dead.”

“What?” He feels a fear begin to manifest, wondering who the director is talking about. It has to be important if he’s mentioning it before the meeting.

“I said Loki is dead. Thor seemed very adamant in the team knowing that he redeemed himself from the destruction of New York. Don’t bring it up to him.”

Steve nodded again, realizing belatedly that Fury couldn’t see him. “Understood.”

He ends the call, putting the phone back on the counter, face down. He stands very still for a moment, before walking to the refrigerator.

Loki is dead.

He wonders if that should make him happier or sadder than it does. He juggles around the notion of having a brief moment of silence for Thor’s brother, knowing how deeply he cared for Loki. How disappointed he'd been by Loki's actions.

Before Steve can decide he realizes that he already, for all intents and purposes had, and instead starts to wonder what Loki had done to redeem himself.

Thor had told them after the battle over a meal of shawarma about how he’d pleaded with Loki to stop, about how all he’d gotten for his efforts was a knife wound. He doubts that Thor would believe Loki’s attempts for redemption if they weren’t real.

Steve's curious, but decides it doesn’t matter. The man who tried to destroy New York is dead, and Steve should rest easy that he can’t ever try again.

Steve gets a jug of milk from the fridge and pours himself a glass. He drinks it while trying to remember how the alarm clock in his room works. He thinks briefly about taking a nap but guilt won’t allow him to, so instead he takes a jog around the block. He likes running, likes not feeling the tightness of his lungs that the asthma used to cause whenever he overexerted himself.

Occasionally the lack of breathlessness, the lack of sweat, the easy way his body obeys him reminds him of what he was and what he is now, and it gives him an unsettling feeling in his stomach. This is one of those times.

When he gets back to his apartment he stretches and does push ups with one hand until S.H.I.E.L.D calls him in for the meeting.

 

 

 

Time passes. It might be a year since Thor has come to stay for good, definitely a few months since anything substantial has happened. Avengers tower is almost rebuilt. Everyone’s growing restless. In the long stretches of free time Steve tries to start doing volunteer work, but finds his presence only draws attention away from the cause once people begin to realize who he is. Fury advises to stay away from anything in that sort of context, lest an enemy try to take him out while he’s ‘acting charitable’.

He dislikes the director's words, but the idea that he might get somebody hurt is more than enough to persuade him.

Days begin to slip through his fingers. He runs, spars with Thor, has dinner with Stark and Miss Potts, sometimes. Others he and Dr. Banner go out for burgers, and Bruce tries to think of things that happened in the past seventy years to tell him about. They stick to that subject, because as soon as he goes off on a science tangent Steve is lost. He rarely sees Agents Barton and Romanov, they seem to have more to do on a weekly basis than he does in a month. It’s a bit disgruntling, because he wants to feel useful, but he doesn’t complain.

They don’t all get along together, but instead seem to exist in broken groups, with the Captain flitting between them. Their company is comfortable, but doesn’t yet feel like the family he had in his last team. It bothers him on some level, that they can’t seem to coexist until a crisis happens. It worries him. Makes him wonder what will happen when their rusty cogs refuse to grind smoothly together.

Fury doesn’t think his concerns carry any weight, so Steve starts keeping his observations to himself.

Steve begins to feel out of place. He knows it's from the culture shock, or whatever you’d call waking up in a different time, even though its been long enough now that he would have thought himself over it.

He tries talking to Banner about it but the doctor isn’t _that_ kind of doctor, and all it does is make the two of them feel uncomfortable until Steve steers the conversation back to what little pop culture the man understands. That experience makes him believe that speaking to Stark would also be a bad idea, and Thor seems generally too boisterous or focused on Jane to have a truly serious conversation.

At least, not without Steve feeling like he’s bringing the lively man down. Stark has more than once called him a stick in the mud and he’s done his best to try ‘loosening up’. It doesn’t work so well.

Steve once more finds an outlet in art. He’s drawn all of the Avengers more times than he can count. He tries drawing Peggy but is left devastated when he can’t quite recall her fair features from memory any longer. He can’t bring himself to draw her as she is now, flitting between recognizing him in the present and straying back to the past in her mind.

He goes to the park and sketches figures, and that holds his interest for a while.

He picks random places in the city to sit and draw as much of the surrounding scenery as he can. Both of those things require him to be outside however, and he can only stay out for so long before someone inevitably recognizes him, or he notices someone hanging around too close for too long. S.H.I.E.L.D. following him is not a surprise, but it makes him less inclined to go out regardless.

The night he draws Loki is a cold one. The middle of December but for some reason Steve has the window open, and he’s sitting on the couch in sweatpants with the TV muted and playing some sort of survival gameshow. The false god’s face is not entirely clear in his mind, but it doesn’t matter.

Lately he's been talking to Thor about Asgard. Whether he missed it or not, what its like there. His family. It made Steve think about Loki for the first time in a long time. He thinks about showing Thor the drawing but worries that it might hurt him, so continues the sketch with the intention of keeping it to himself.

By the time he finishes there’s something off, he knows there is, but can’t quite place it. It doesn’t matter. If you can’t discern Loki from the face the horns will do it well enough. He chuckles at that, sets his pencil down and stretches.

Steve goes into the kitchen to make burgers for dinner. He goes to sleep around eleven and the sketch remains on his table, forgotten.

 

When Steve opens his eyes he’s sitting on the couch. It’s late at night, and the TV is still on, though he knows he turned it off. It takes him a moment to realize he doesn’t know how he got there. It’s dark outside. But when he looks down and sees himself in full uniform he understands that this must be a dream.

“This looks nothing like me,” a voice to his left says.

Captain America turns his head and blinks when he sees Loki, of all people, on the couch beside him. His first instinct is to reach for his shield. Then he remembers that Loki is dead, has been for a while now, and it only further cements his previous thoughts that this is a dream. So he remains where he is.

Loki is holding the picture he’d drawn of him in hand, looking at it in distaste. It would be almost comical if it weren’t so bizarre. Thor’s brother turns the paper and shows it to him, holding it up to his face for comparison. In the picture, the nose is a bit too long, his face a tad too wide. But all things considered, Steve thinks he did a pretty good job. He says as such.

There’s a moment where the displeasure deepens, but then a smirk blooms on Loki’s lips so quickly it couldn’t have been purposeful; like he was surprised the Captain had dared disagree with him. “Perhaps,” he replies, setting the paper down. He waves a hand and Steve blinks when his largest sketchbook and a pencil appear in his lap. “Do it again.”

“Why?” Steve looks up, but his hand grips the pencil regardless, the fabric of his gloves stretching in unfamiliar ways around the utensil.

Loki lifts his head and settles back into the couch cushion like it's a throne. “Because now, Captain, you have a model of which to work off of. Do it again.”

The last sentence is a command, but Steve isn't bothered by it. He has no expectations for Loki to be nice or civil, even in a dream. And this is probably the most pleasant, if kooky one he’s had in a while. So he pulls off his glove, and begins to sketch.

“Ah, I knew the soldier would be good at following orders.”

The Captain’s pencil stops, and he lifts his eyes to raise a brow at the other. “If I’m gonna do this, you’re gonna be quiet.”

Loki tilts his head in amusement, but it seems like he wants the picture redone more than he feels the need to goad him.

Captain America continues sketching.

Loki is able to remain perfectly still. It's almost frightening. More than once Steve had to pause just to see if Loki was still breathing, or wait for a blink to make sure he hadn’t turned into a statue. With the things he knew Loki was capable of it shouldn’t have been too surprising, but then, he supposed nothing should have been. He was wearing his uniform in his apartment in the middle of the night, sketching a dead man.

Because he has time, he takes it. He draws Loki, and then he takes away the rough lines and softens them, and slowly the alien’s image becomes captured on paper.

It's only a bust, stopping at the false god’s shoulders. He makes sure to take as much care as possible in getting the features right. He pays extra attention to the mouth. Loki is a silver-tongued prince of lies (at least, that was Thor’s description), so in a way his lips were what held back his biggest weapon. There was a time during the New York incident that the Avengers fought against that weapon, his words, and almost lost. So it has to be perfect.

The Captain doesn’t know how long it takes. It's been a while since he had a model, especially one that volunteered. It would be relaxing if the company were different.

When he finishes, he looks down at the picture, then back at Loki’s face.

“Well?”

Steve hands the sketchbook over, and Loki takes it with an eagerness that amuses him.

While Loki looks at the picture the alien preens, his smirk growing wider and eyes hooding as he turns it this way and that. “Hmm, it appears you do have some talent, Captain.”

Steve sets his pencil down, and pulls his glove back on. “You’re welcome.” He doesn’t expect a thank you.

Loki gives him an amused look, and then he sets the sketchbook down. He opens his mouth, but then the image grows fuzzy.

 

Steve opens his eyes.

He’s laying in his bed, in his pajamas, staring up at the ceiling.

Steve looks out the window, and sees its morning. His clock says 7:30am. For a moment, he remains where he is and tries to think about the dream's meaning. After a rather spontaneous lecture from Dr. Banner about the importance of dreams he’s been trying to do that, lately. But he can think of no meaning other than his subconscious might have thought his sketch of Loki too horrid to pass. He figures dreams are allowed to be pure nonsense as well, and leaves it at that.  
When Steve walks out of his bedroom after taking a shower and pulling on some clothes he could run in, he sees that the TV in the living room is on. This brings upon a momentary feeling of panic, and he instantly moves into a defensive stance.

He turned off the TV last night.

Then he remembers his dream, and a shot of paranoia is injected into his veins. He moves over to the couch but finds that the bad sketch of Loki is on the table right where he left it. He finds his large sketchbook in its proper place and flips through it entirely, but is unable to find the picture he drew in his dream. He even counts the pages, but every single sheet is accounted for.

He sits on the couch and starts to think that maybe he's stressed. He turns off the TV and goes for his morning jog, forcing thoughts of the dream out of his head.

 

 

 

  
The mission goes bad.

S.H.I.E.L.D. wants him to stay so they can patch him up, Fury wants to interrogate him, Agent Coulson wants to tell him it's not his fault. Steve just wants to go back to his apartment and lay down. He knows the wounds will heal. He’s already said all he feels like saying to his team.

Thinking back, he may have overreacted. Stark wouldn’t listen, got into an argument with Thor that set off the Hulk and almost ruined the entire operation. It was what happened after that did ruin it.

Captain America got angry. No one had officially made him the leader, but he couldn’t help feeling responsible as the one with the most combat experience— barring Agents Romanoff and Barton. He’d admit he started the fight with Stark.

That man rubs him the wrong way sometimes.

It’s over, and he’s tired. He receives a single look from Maria, the meaning of which he’s unable to decipher before he’s being dropped off at the place he’s trying to make into a home. It’s not quite there yet, but definitely preferable to the cold walls of S.H.I.E.L.D.

Steve sighs when he steps through the door and goes straight to the shower to wash off the blood and dirt. It occurs to him as he’s washing his hair that the blonde strands growing— along with his nails— are the only indication his body gives that time is passing. He hadn’t seen any other changes since he’d gotten out of the ice. Steve wonders if he’ll be frozen like this forever, if the doctor’s serum has trapped him in this body, trapped him to fight for the rest of his life because he’ll always be willing and able, until he finally runs out of luck.

They always said be careful what you wish for.

Steve decides that wondering is bad for his mental state and stops. When he steps out of the shower, even though his wounds have probably already started healing, he’s tired. He sleeps.

  
Not a moment later he’s in his Captain America uniform again, still on the bed. Loki sits in a chair that he doesn’t remember having across the room from him. The other’s face is amused, posture impeccable.

Captain America isn’t in the mood to see him. If there is a mood for that.

“So this is what it looks like when The Avengers fail.” Loki makes it sound like the words are delicious. He leans forward as if he’s sharing a particularly juicy tidbit of gossip, eyes wide and alive. Captain America sits up on his bed and drags his legs off until his feet are firmly planted on the floor.

“Oh, how the mighty have fallen. I can’t say I’m not surprised,” the alien continues. “You didn’t seem so… fond of each other, when we last met.”

He doesn’t want to speak to Loki, and briefly tries thinking of other things in the hopes that his dreams will bend to his will. They don’t, and so after a moment he lifts his eyes.

“Having a bit of trouble getting the kiddies to play nice, Captain?”

“We’re a team. Sometimes it takes a while for people to get used to each other. Working together.” Even to his ears that sounds defensive, but he resists the urge to wince. Loki laughs.

“Oh really? Doesn’t it scare you, Captain? The thought that this little ‘Avengers’ project might not work out? That one day when it really counts everyone will be too busy arguing to focus on the problem at hand?”

Steve doesn’t reply.

Loki stands from the chair, a sudden action, and Steve can feel power crackling around him, energy surging. He moves his head to follow the motion, but he doesn’t get up. Whatever Loki might do to him, it doesn’t matter. It's a dream. So when Loki walks closer, the grin spreading across his lips, Steve doesn’t flinch.

“You can’t rely on them and you know it. You can’t count on them like your old team. In a way you don’t want to be able to, because that would be replacing them. And what have you left, of your friends, if not memories?”

That stings. It’s a dream, so he tries to think of the significance. He knows he misses the guys. Misses Peggy. But he hasn’t thought about them in any way other than fondly in a while now. He thinks Loki, or whatever Loki represents, is wrong. So he says so. “Maybe we don’t get along, but the fact that we were able to defeat you proves we can work together. Stark might talk big but he knows when to shut up and act. Thor’s not used to this world but he’ll do anything to protect it. And I trust Doctor Banner to keep control of himself. I’m the one who needs to adjust.” It feels good to put these thoughts into words.

Loki pauses, regarding him with unreadable eyes for several, long seconds. Then they narrow. “Ever optimistic, aren’t you, Captain. Why do you feel _you_ need to adjust? To bend?”

Captain America gives no response. Loki is towering over him now, and for the first time Steve feels like standing. Loki smiles again. Steve's never been annoyed by a smile before.

“Could it be, perhaps… you fear letting them down?”

Still Steve says nothing, but Loki’s mouth curl up further.

“For all that you’ve been through you still feel you need to prove yourself… rather pathetic, don’t you think?” Loki’s lips purse, and he wets them.

Steve shrugs. “Maybe. But it’s not a fear that brings weakness. It’s a fear that brings strength.”

Loki's face contorts, and his head gives a small jerk. “I do believe I hate you, Captain.”

Another shrug. “I didn’t ask you to like me.”

Then Loki’s gone, and he’s opening his eyes to sunlight streaming through his window.

 

 

 

  
The next time he dreams about Loki it’s different.

He’s not sure how, at first. Months have passed. In his head he only vaguely remembers the dreams, snippets of conversations that slip his mind after letting them drift away. He had thought briefly about telling Thor, but realized there would be no point.

So when he sees Loki again, it’s surprising. And it takes a bit longer to realize this is the first time he's not in his Captain America gear. In fact, he’s still wearing what he wore when he fell asleep, and its disconcerting to be in front of Loki in nothing but a T-shirt and boxers.

“Why did you draw me?” Loki asks, and Steve feels disoriented, like he just woke up.

“Wha?”

Loki's fingers twitch, chin pulling upwards. “The portrait,” he reiterates, as if talking to a small child. “Why? I take it I did not just happen to be on your mind.”

Steve thinks back to the time when he had drawn Loki, and realizes that was exactly the case. “I needed someone to draw. I thought of you.”

The answer isn’t good enough, Steve can tell, but isn’t sure what Loki is looking for. Steve looks around, finally starting to wake up a bit more. The exact moment when he realizes it's not a dream is the moment his phone begins to ring.

Steve looks to the phone, and then back to Loki, and the muscles in his stomach tense so hard they start to cramp. He jumps up, and Loki sighs.

“Please, Captain, I’m hardly in the mood.”

Steve wants to get his shield but Loki stands between he and it and the casual stance of the other makes him even more confused. “You’re dead,” he points out helpfully.

“Honestly if your powers of observation are this bad, I must say I already regret coming here.”

“You’re not dead?” Steve corrects, and his head hurts from trying to process this.

“Bravo Captain. You’re not a complete idiot.”

“Why are you here?”

No immediate snappy comeback from Loki, and Steve stares at him in the dim light of the room for half a second, before shifting to the side and turning on his bedside lamp. It makes everything more real.

Loki looks exactly the same as he had when Thor took him from Earth. A mass of green and gold and good posture and porcupine spiky black hair.

Steve is confused. “Does Thor know you’re here?” He asks, remembering Thor had said Loki redeemed himself. He’s not sure if that means Loki's no longer a threat, but seeing this man still makes him nervous.

“No,” Loki answers, but he doesn’t say anything after that.

Steve runs a hand through his blonde hair and resigns himself to not getting answers. “Do you want breakfast?”

Loki narrows his eyes in a suspicious fashion. “Why?”

“Because you woke me up, and I’m hungry.”

“You find a notorious super-villain in your apartment and your first thought is to cook him breakfast?” Loki sounds bewildered.

Steve is a little too tired to get defensive. “My first thought was to ask why you’re here, but since you’re not answering, I might as well eat.”

“You’re not even the least bit worried I might try to kill you?”

“You could have done that while I was sleeping,” Steve says, meandering around Loki and moving to the kitchen. Loki’s right of course, it is odd, but there’s not exactly anything he can do about it.

The phone’s stopped ringing.

He should call S.H.I.E.L.D. The thought lingers in his mind, but he doesn’t reach for the phone. Instead he looks over his shoulder at Loki, who has followed him into the kitchen. “Did you come here just to ask why I drew you?”

“Of course not.” Loki’s face says ‘don’t be ridiculous’, but Steve isn’t so sure.

“So why is that the first thing you said?”

Loki sneers at him.

“Those other times, they weren’t dreams, were they?”

“No, but you are quite easy to fool.”

“What did you do to me?” Steve feels a little angry. Whatever magic Loki was using still boils down to manipulation, even if it only amounted to sketching and odd conversations.

“I used you to alleviate my boredom. Is that a crime here on Earth?”

“No, but breaking and entering is.”

Loki rolls his eyes while Steve slides two pieces of bread into the toaster. “You humans are so sensitive.”

“So that’s why you’re here, because you’re bored?”

“In a nutshell.”

“Thor would really like to see you. He misses you.”

Loki wrinkles his nose. “First rule Captain, we do not speak of my brother.”

Steve sets a frying pan on top of the stove and cracks two eggs into a bowl. “Or else what? You’ll leave? You weren’t exactly invited in the first place.”

Loki leans against the counter and watches him move about the kitchen, arms folded across his chest. “You’re sassier than your name would imply.”

“I think anyone would be sassy if they woke up and found a stranger watching them sleep.”

“How long are you going to bring that up? Do you want an apology? I’m sorry I snuck into your apartment. There.”

“It doesn’t really sound like you mean it.” At some point in their conversation, Steve starts to smile. There’s a matching one on Loki’s lips. It isn't annoying.

The phone rings again. This time Steve goes to answer it.

Loki blocks his path, the smile on his mouth creeping wider. “Now Captain, just to be sure we understand each other, if you tell anyone I’m here, I’ll kill you.” The threat sounds hollow.

“I’d like to see you try,” Steve says just to be contrary. He picks up the phone and a voice is assaulting him before he has time to say hello.

“Steve? Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine Natasha. I just woke up.”

“A little late for you, isn’t it?”

“Rough night.” Steve catches Loki watching him curiously, and turns his back so he can have the illusion of privacy. “Does S.H.I.E.L.D need me?”

“Yeah, Fury wants you to come in. Thor’s been talking about some strange disturbances Heimdall noticed in the blah blah magic something or other near Earth’s sector. Probably nothing but he says we should stay informed.”

Steve glances over his shoulder at Loki, who’s eying the toaster as if it holds the answer to questions that keep him up late at night.

“I’ll be there after breakfast.” He hangs up, and moves to finish beating the eggs so he can pour them into the pan.

“I have to say, I didn’t really think Captain America was capable of lying.”

“I didn’t lie.” Steve turns on the heat, and drops a dollop of butter in the pan, watching it melt. “Why are you really here, Loki?” A few seconds after Steve asks the question, Loki is standing next to him, staring as he pours the beaten eggs in the pan and starts to scramble them.

He is quiet. Steve makes it a point not to look at him.

“I do not know you, Captain.”

“No, you don’t.”

“It’s all too personal, with the other Avengers.” Loki flutters a few fingers in a gesture Steve doesn’t understand, and lets out a shallow laugh. “I wanted something… impersonal.”

“That doesn’t really answer my question.”

“It’ll have to do.”

Steve eats his breakfast, and Loki watches him do it. Steve still wonders if the man is hungry (Thor eats like he has three stomachs) but Loki has said nothing about food, and he’s not about to make more for someone who can’t even ask or answer questions properly.

When he’s done, he does the dishes, and then grabs his shield.

“You’re just going to leave me here in your apartment unguarded?”

“If you got in without me noticing, I think you could get out, too.”

“Fair enough.”

Steve leaves for the briefing, thinking about Loki in only the slightest of ways. Mostly wondering why he’s so fixated on the drawing.

When he gets back, Loki is gone, and there is no trace of him. Steve wonders if he’s going crazy.

 

 

 

“You’re not crazy,” Loki informs him the next time he shows up, about two weeks later.

“What?”

“You’re staring at me like you’re not sure if I’m real.”

Steve turns around, a little irritated that Loki can just pop in at all hours of the day. His toothbrush is still hanging out of his mouth, and he turns back to spit, rinse, and replace it back in the little blue cup on his sink. "Well, someone did tell me you were dead."

"And I put forth a great deal of effort to make them believe that."

"Why?" Steve sighs, and then looks at Loki's reflection in the mirror. "Better yet, why do you keep showing up like this?"

"I told you, I'm bored." Loki rolls his eyes, as if Steve is being the incredibly difficult one.

Steve wants to take a shower, and he didn't sleep well the night before, and he's really not in the mood for this nonsense. "If you're not going to tell me the truth, I'm going to ignore you."

"Ignore me?"

Steve walks over to the shower and turns on the water, testing the temperature.

"You can't ignore me, Captain."

Steve begs to differ. He closes the toilet lid and sits down to take off his socks.

"This is rather childish, don't you think?"

Steve checks the temperature again, and finds it reasonable. He tugs off his T-shirt. He's wondering if Loki's really going to just stand there and watch him undress when a jet of cold water blasts him in the face.

He sputters and leans back. The water stops. Steve stares up at the shower faucet with narrow eyes. "Gotta get that fixed."

He hears Loki let out two, deliberate laughs behind him.

Steve can't back down now, so he drops his boxers and steps out of them and into the shower, closing the curtain behind him. The water temperature goes from scalding hot to freezing cold and back again, but Steve bears it all without a single complaint.

When he's finished, he tugs his towel down from the nearby bar, and wipes himself off. When he's only a little bit damp he wraps it around his waist and steps out.

Loki is still standing there, looking like he doesn't know whether to be amused, impressed, or furious.

Steve ignores him. He looks in the mirror, and debates shaving, but decides he doesn't want to bring out any sharp objects for Loki to manipulate. He turns to the door, and notices Loki giving him an appraising look that he doesn't hide quite quick enough.

That's interesting. Steve feels suddenly self-conscious, in just a towel, in front of a virtual stranger, but he wills himself not to blush.

When he steps back into his room, everything is pink. It is only through sheer force of will that Steve manages not to react. He goes over to his pink dresser and tugs on the pink knob, and pulls out pink boxers.

He hears Loki unsuccessfully stifle a laugh.

Steve only turns his head for a second, but when he looks back his boxers have turned into a lacy thong. He looks in the dresser again, and sees that every pair of underwear he owns is now some form of lingerie.

Steve can only stare for a second, putting all his efforts towards not letting his lips twitch up.

"I could do this all day," Loki threatens, and Steve loses it.

He laughs, harder than he's laughed in what feels like an age. He presses a hand to his face, and then covers his mouth, and then laughs harder. He has to double over to catch his towel when it threatens to fall off.

When he finally looks at Loki, the other is staring at him like he's grown two extra heads. There's a moment of silence, where Steve can't stop smiling, and Loki doesn't even breathe.

And then Loki grins, looking terribly proud of himself. "I win."

"You win," Steve concedes. "Can I have my underwear back?"

Abruptly, the room goes back to normal. Steve picks up the pair of boxers he'd originally chosen, then looks back at Loki to ask for privacy.

He's startled to find Loki's gone.

 

 

The next time Steve sees Loki, he's jogging outside, and the man just appears, and Steve nearly flails into traffic he's so startled.

"Good morning, Captain."

"L—" Steve looks around at the other people on the sidewalk, and corrects himself. "What are you doing? Someone could have seen that."

Loki scoffs. "Don't take me for a fool. No one but you noticed."

"How?" Steve asks dumbly.

Loki wiggles his fingers. "Magic."

Steve is skeptical. But as people pass them by, they walk carefully around both him, and Loki, and Steve finally accepts that maybe he's not crazy.

Steve continues, walking this time. "Bored again?"

Loki beams. "Why, I do believe you're starting to get it."

Steve chuckles, and Loki's smile grows wider.

"So this is what Captain America does on his days off."

"Steve."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Call me Steve."

Loki purses his lips. "Why?"

"If you're going to keep getting 'bored', I'd rather you not keep calling me 'Captain' all the time. Especially out here."

Loki hums, but nods. "All right then, Steve."

"Loki."

They spend the rest of the walk in silence, and it's sort of nice. When Steve gets back to his apartment he's alone, but he's still smiling.

 

 

 Steve wakes up feeling like something is wrong. Two hours ago he'd returned from a S.H.I.E.L.D mission that lasted far too long and all he wants to do is sleep for days.

He rubs his eyes, and reaches blindly for the bedside lamp. He turns it on, yawns, then rolls over and nearly bumps into Loki.

Steve almost punches the man in the face before he realizes who he is. "Wh— Loki, what— why?" It's the middle of the night.

Loki is sitting on the other side of his bed, knees drawn up and elbows resting on them. There's a sour look on his face. "I blame you for this."

Steve rubs his eyes again, yawning now that the initial surprise has faded. "For what?"

"I went to see Thor."

"That's great."

"He didn't take it well."

"That's not so great."

Loki turns to him, glaring. "Is that all you have to say?"

Steve blinks slowly. "I'm kind of tired."

"Humans," Loki hisses, and Steve lays back down. "Are you listening to me?"

"Yeah. Thor will forgive you eventually. If you tell him why you did it."

"You don't know my brother."

Steve is still drowsy. He lets his eyes drift close. "Why did you do it?"

There's a long pause. Steve blinks his eyes open once, wondering if Loki left, but he's still sitting there, perfectly still. Steve closes his eyes again.

"I would have gone straight back to the dungeon."

"Huh?"

"When it was over. They would have locked me up again, no matter how I helped. Can you honestly blame me for running?"

Steve had asked Thor about the Dark Elves. It's odd to think about Loki, the man who'd nearly destroyed New York entirely, doing some of the things Thor had claimed.

"You don't know what it's like for people to not see you when you're standing right in front of them. To receive no recognition even though all you do is please. It's enough to drive one mad."

Steve thinks he might be able to understand better than Loki thinks. He's too sleepy to say so, though. The light clicks off, and Steve is drowning in a comfortable dark. He wants to tell Loki something that might make him feel better, but can't think of what it is.

A moment later he's asleep.

 

  
When he opens his eyes, it's daylight, and Loki's face is too close for comfort. He shifts back in startled surprise, but it doesn't take long to realize the other is asleep.

For some reason he'd just sort of assumed Loki didn't sleep. Loki looks odd like this. Relaxed. He's still in his armor.

Steve sits up on his elbows and stares. He can't remember what color Loki's eyes are. They're not brown, he's sure. Steve traces the shape of Loki's nose with his eyes, then down to his mouth, hanging open, and thinks about drawing him like this.

When he looks back up to Loki's eyes he realizes they're green. Then he realizes they're open.

"It's rude to watch someone while they sleep." Loki doesn't sound the least bit groggy, or disoriented. It's unfair.

Steve is terribly embarrassed, and he feels his ears burn. "Sorry."

Loki shifts onto his back and stretches out like a cat.

Steve wonders if he should even bother pointing out this is his bed.

"Where have you been?"

"What?"

"You haven't been home for the past three weeks."

Steve tilts his head, scratching the back of it. "How do you know?"

Loki turns to look at him, face going blank, before he laughs. "Well, I was bored, of course. And my most recent pastime was no longer there to amuse me."

Steve raises an eyebrow. "Uh huh. I was on a mission for S.H.I.E.L.D."

"Noble Captain America, saving lives from the forces of evil."

"Something like that." Steve blinks hard. Loki being around is strange enough, but this most recent development is a little hard to process. "Are we friends?"

"No." Loki answers the question dismissively, like he'd barely given it a thought.

Steve hums. "So why did you sleep with me?"

"No need to make it sound so vulgar."

"I wasn't—"

"I merely dozed off so we could continue our conversation later."

Steve knows his face is red, he can see it in the way Loki smirks at him. "Our conversation...? Right... Thor."

"Mmh yes, well, I don't really feel like talking about it anymore." Loki sits up, shifts off the bed. "Admittedly, I did stay longer than intended. I should be off."

Steve sits up straighter. "Wait."

"Hmm?"

"Are you hungry?"

"...Hmm?"

Steve stands, scratching his stomach. "I could make breakfast."

Loki wrinkled his nose. "What part of 'no' made you think we were friends?"

"It sort of feels like we're friends."

Loki starts to smile, but stops himself. "You should hate me."

"If Thor can give you a second chance, I can too." Steve shrugs. "Besides, it's sort of hard to hate someone once you've seen them drool."

Loki immediately wipes his mouth, glaring. "I don't drool."

Steve holds up his hands and does his best not to laugh. "So are you hungry?"

"I suppose I could spare time for breakfast."

 

 

  
The routine goes on.

Steve never tells anyone about Loki because they never ask.

They get into battles increasingly dangerous and fight foes increasingly ridiculous, and sometimes Thor asks for Loki's help, and sometimes he comes.

Clint doesn't like it, neither does Natasha. Stark finds it funny, but still won't stand around Loki when there's a window nearby. Thor insists Loki is an honorary Avenger, and when Steve says 'I told you so' late one night, when he's drawing Loki in bed, Loki pretends not to hear him.

 

 

The battle goes exceptionally, frighteningly well.

Steve and Natasha were in sync and Tony and Bruce's formula kept the Hulk under control. Thor kept the collateral damage to a minimum and Clint didn't shoot Loki when he showed up to help.

As usual, Loki doesn't stick around for clean up.

He hums "Goodbye, darling Captain," as he turns around and disappears into thin air.

Everyone looks at Steve like he'd just turned purple.

"What the hell was that about?" Tony asks, and Steve shrugs.

He honestly has no idea.

It's not until he gets back to his apartment later that night, and sees Loki curled up in his bed that he realizes he hasn't stopped smiling.


End file.
